Waiting on the Lord: an Advent Reflection

The people who have walked in darkness have seen a great light (Isaiah 9:2)

Bing Crosby's version of "Silver Bells" is playing in the background, as I address and stamp the last few Christmas cards. Mr. D should be napping, but he is cackling and standing up in the crib. He has tossed out his bottle and lovey (a new pattern of fighting nap time). I would just give up, and go get him, but I know he needs the nap. And, to be honest, I need the break.

The angel tries to convince Joseph to stick it out.

Life continues on at a fairly break-neck speed. The challenges that I alluded to in my opening post for the Thanksgiving novena have not subsided. So this Advent, we can empathize a little more deeply with the people of Israel, who were waiting for so many years for a Savior. For deliverance from their oppressors, healing from physical, emotional, and spiritual infirmities, light in the darkness.

Waiting on the Lord...

One of my dear friends recently lamented about all the suffering and senseless violence that seems to pervade our world. "It's been a strange couple of days...the world seems so chaotic right now with everything that's been happening." Darkness seems very close, and hope appears fragile and flickering, when it appears at all.

Imagine that instead of silver candles, you see purple ones. And instead of a white candle you see a pink one...oh well. ;)

Two weeks ago, I sat before the Blessed Sacrament, and I grappled with my sense of powerlessness, and my desire for Jesus to come and make sense of the chaos. As I pleaded with my eyes, my heart, and my innermost being, I heard "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel" being sung in the main part of the Church. I have heard this song innumerable times, but never before has its plaintive melody and lyrics matched the longing in my heart so perfectly.

O come, O come, Emmanuel

And ransom captive Israel

That mourns in lonely exile here

Until the Son of God appear

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel

Shall come to thee, O Israel.

O come, Thou Rod of Jesse, free

Thine own from Satan's tyranny

From depths of Hell Thy people save

And give them victory o'er the grave

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel

Shall come to thee, O Israel.

O come, Thou Day-Spring, come and cheer

Our spirits by Thine advent here

Disperse the gloomy clouds of night

And death's dark shadows put to flight.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel

Shall come to thee, O Israel.

O come, Thou Key of David, come,

And open wide our heavenly home;

Make safe the way that leads on high,

And close the path to misery.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel

Shall come to thee, O Israel.

O come, O come, Thou Lord of might,

Who to Thy tribes, on Sinai's height,

In ancient times did'st give the Law,

In cloud, and majesty and awe.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel

Shall come to thee, O Israel.

It's a plea, but not completely devoid of hope. Even in the midst of suffering--and this song enumerates the many sufferings we are prey to in this world--we can rejoice! This joy is not superficial. And it cannot be quenched, even in the appearance of defeat. As Gerard Manley Hopkins, notes in his poem "God's Grandeur,"even "though the last lights off the black West went/ Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs." Even though at times, we seem surrounded by darkness, I am choosing to believe that the light, that seems now to be just a flicker, will soon become a great light. Come, Lord Jesus!